


If Villains Baked Cookies

by UncrownedKing



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Child Negligence, Curses, Dragons, Everyone else is young, Gen, Implied Child Negligence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mage!Patton, Minor Character Death, Patton just dads the hell outta everything, RIP, Swords, Sympathetic Deceit, but its all off screen and they're not developed, cursing, i forgot that was a thing i had to tag, i like to think Patton and Deceit are just dad and mom friend respectively in this au, like minor minor, no ships unless y'all wanna read it as moceit, the man just wanted to know how to garden y'all, things went downhill so fucking fast, though deceit would die before admitting that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-11-19 04:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18131009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncrownedKing/pseuds/UncrownedKing
Summary: Thomas is the Chosen One of his kingdom, sent to kill the evil warlock who lives on the tallest mountain of the lands. After a perilous journey, however, Thomas realizes that things aren't exactly as they seem, and the warlock just won't stop adopting the heroes that get sent up to him.Also known as "Patton accidentally becomes incredibly powerful, befriends a god, and adopts every teenage hero who is sent to kill him."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This story's going to be a continuation of this post (https://imnotcameraready.tumblr.com/post/183017019555/broadwaytheanimatedseries-hexmaniacmareen) , since a few people wanted to see a full story. I figured why not drop it into AO3 since some folks find it easier to read here (I know I do). Sorry if the formatting's a little weird, it's been a while since I've actually uploaded anything, or posted my writing publicly. Let me know if you see any weird things or grammar mistakes and I'll see to them ASAP!
> 
> Surprising that that lil' post is going to be an Actual Series! Here's to hoping I don't drop this ;7; and I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> P.S., if you've already read the story on the post, you can skip ahead to Chapter 1 ^^

 

Thomas knew it would be a difficult quest. Of course it would be, no quest is really easy, but he hadn’t fully processed what “impossible” meant.

He stared up at the castle through the window of the inn he was staying in. It was atop the highest hill in Tomasfere and tomorrow, as soon as he’d packed his horse, he would be riding to the top. There lived an immortal warlock, according to his nation’s legends, who had been banished by the royal family centuries ago for making a deal with the ancient devils to prolong his life and teach him magic. The gods chose someone every half a century to bestow their blessings and send on a quest to kill the warlock and his demon. While Thomas didn’t think he fit the bill of “most cunning, elite brave warrior,” he did know he was determined, and he did know he wanted to keep his people safe.

He also knew others had been sent before him. One of the royal family’s princes had even been chosen to try and defeat the warlock, but no one had ever returned. The brother of his village’s librarian was also chosen, when they were younger, and Thomas remembered the librarian’s stories of how the warlock wasn’t smart, how they thought his brother would be able to outwit him. But he didn’t return, either. And the village lost hope.

Maybe it was a little egotistical, to think he could be the hero to save Tomasfere, but he had to be optimistic. Thomas knew the whole nation was counting on him. The warlock’s presence was like a storm cloud hanging over his nation, day after day, the people living in fear of when he might lash out. He’d destroyed the royal castle nearly a century ago as a show of force, Thomas recalled the librarian telling him, but the people stood up and continued to train their heroes in defiance. He had to preserve that fighting drive to live.

He had to be prepared. Thinking too much about the impending battle would make him too worried and Thomas didn’t work the best when his mind was clouded with anxiety. He stood up, stretching his limbs, and grabbed his cloak. It was a small town, about half a day’s ride from the castle, and it would be his last taste of civilization until he returned. Thomas decided that the best course of action would be to stock up on healing ointments and perhaps some food packs.

This town was much more reserved than others in Tomasfere. There were only a few cloaked vagabonds sitting in the tavern and every buildings’ windows seemed to be shuttered, despite it barely being dusk. Thomas felt the townsfolks’ fear as though it were a mist settled around the streets. It was suffocating. He ducked into the small shop, marked by a sign with a potion bottle and snake.

“Hello!” Thomas jumped and spun around at the sudden sound.

The shop’s walls and tables were lined with trinkets, potions bottles, and the likes. A man was standing besides what looked like a food stall, putting cookies onto a small tray. He was previously smiling, but had put down the tray and was wiping his hands on the light grey apron he was wearing. “Oh, geez, I’m sorry if I scared you! Just excited to have someone in the shop.”

Thomas scanned the man up and down, a little confused by his exuberance. This town didn’t seem like the type to have a sunshine-radiant potions master, after all, but the man before him had bright blue eyes behind large, circle-rimmed glasses, and was wearing a grey apron and blue shawl, with another shirt beneath made of some sort of soft fabric. He seemed gentle, like the kind of man who you would think gave great hugs. While that would typically be inviting, Thomas found it a little offputting, especially in a place as dire as this.

He was on edge. But if he was overthinking this, judging a man just for the city he lived in, then, well….

“Um. Yeah,” he tried to give the shopkeeper a smile but it must have turned out looking like a grimace, because the man’s own smile saddened as he closed the pastry display, “I’m here to pick up some things before I go on my quest.”

“A quest, eh? What kind of quest’s brought you all the way out here?” the shopkeeper pushed up his glasses and walked back to the front.

Conversation? That was also new. Maybe the shopkeeper was just lonely. Thomas walked to the prepared food rations, with a sign that said “Fresh daily!”, and began inspecting their ingredients. “Well….I’m the chosen one,” Thomas still felt uncomfortable with that title rolling off of his tongue.

Silence. Thomas looked up from the rations at the man, meeting his stunned expression. Ah. So he didn’t know. That was fair. Thomas’ arrival hadn’t been announced.

“Oh,” the shopkeeper’s brows pinched, hands fiddling with the sides of his shirt, “You’re, uh, the chosen one?”

“Yep. I’m stocking up on rations and, um, if you have healing potions or ointments? Or any advice?” Thomas looked away.

It was embarrassing to admit that he was afraid but, well….he was. Thomas was terrified. If he didn’t succeed, then the nation’s fears and the gods’ hatred would continue to bear down on his people. The ones he loved.

“....I don’t really know what I can tell you, kiddo,” the shopkeeper’s voice was softer now, “I’ve, um, got some potions on the other side, over there.”

He waved his hand to the right. Thomas was going to dispute the whole “kiddo” thing, because c’mon, he was already sixteen! And he was going to fight a warlock to the death! Not just any warlock, either, THE warlock!

Stop, worries. Now wasn’t the time and here wasn’t the place. Thomas grabbed two ration packs, neither of which had carrots (thank God), and began examining the potions. Something that could alleviate pain and begin stitching the skin together again would be nice, since he’d be in close combat. Thomas grabbed five vials and began counting out his coins on the table. If he could afford six, that would be great, but Thomas was pretty sure he didn’t have enough money.

“Don’t worry,” the shopkeeper interrupted his counting, “If you want to take six, you can. I’ll give you a discount, how about?”

Thomas glanced up at him, and the shopkeeper smiled again. Thomas wasn’t sure how he knew how many he wanted. His eyes were so kind, but Thomas could see something else lingering behind them, some emotion he didn’t quite understand. “You’re the chosen one, afterall.”

“Are you sure, sir? I don’t want to take advantage or anything—”

“No way! I’ve,” the shopkeeper bit his lip, stiffling a small giggle, “ _Chosen_ to, anyway. And my name’s Patton, don’t need to call me sir nothin’!”

A pun. Thomas himself chuckled and picked up a sixth vial. Wonderful. He set the items down onto the front table and put the pile of gold coins besides the wares. “Thanks, then, Patton. I’m Thomas,” he smiled at Patton as he began counting the total of the wares.

His smile faded just a tiny bit. Chosen. What a joke. “Truth be told….I’m a little worried. What if I die?” Something tugged at his tightly bound worries and unraveled them.

“I….don’t think you will, kiddo. Er, Thomas,” Patton patted his shoulder across the table, in what Thomas assumed was an awkward pat. “I think it’s going to be okay. Maybe the warlock doesn’t want to fight you, either?”

Thomas shrugged. “It must be easy for him, at this point,” his voice grew even more somber, “The past chosen ones sent up to kill him all died. I...I don’t know if I can do better. I think the whole ‘Chosen One’ process just….chose wrong.”

Patton squeezed his arm. Thomas wasn’t sure why he felt the need to be honest about how he felt with Patton, but deep down, something told him Patton wouldn’t judge his worries. “Chosen or now, I know you’re a good kid, Thomas. You’re a good person. And you’re gonna do great. I know it.”

He smiled, biting his lip a little. That was honestly exactly what he needed to hear, and even coming from a storekeep he’d just met was enough to make him feel immensely better. “Thanks, Patton. It was great meeting you but I should probably head back to my room. Gotta get a good rest, right?”

Patton nodded, looking down at the table now. “Definitely! You get some rest, kiddo, you’ve got a big day ahead of you!” he helped Thomas put his things into the pouch and waved Thomas off, “Good luck.”

Thomas was confident. There was something the shopkeeper knew, but it didn’t seem like he meant any harm. However, he could have sworn that he heard Patton after he closed the door, “They’re getting younger every time.” But when Thomas opened the door again, confused, there was no one behind the counter, nor in the store at all.

 

* * *

 

 

The trek up the hill was difficult. Thomas had planned for it all, though. The snow, the weird plants that seemed to grab at his ankles, the

He hadn’t planned for what would happen when he reached the top.

Instead of the castle, which he could vaguely see the night before, there was a small cottage. The rooftop was made of straw and the walls were stone, but were painted over with colorful flowers, hand prints, smiley faces. There was a garden, only a little overgrown, and even a small barn and enclosure on the cottage’s left with some cows milling about. Thomas flinched when he heard a soft “moo.”

What in the name of Zeus was this? One of the warlock’s tricks? He gripped his sword tighter and took a few steps forward.

One of his boots crunched over some stones and Thomas stopped. Someone was peering through the window now.

Despite the distance, Thomas could make out a pair of rectangular glasses and a dark blue scarf. The figure turned around and disappeared back into the cottage.

“HE’S HERE!” someone shouted from inside.

Thomas pressed his lips together. So much for a surprise attack.

The front door opened.

“Well! Good to see you again, Thomas!”

His breathing hitched as Patton stepped out, shawl wrapped around his shoulders, a second coat over him for the cold. Patton was holding a staff with two snakes intertwined, runes on pieces of fabric tied to the top. The staff glowed an eerie yellow, lighting the way between the two of them.

“I’m glad you made it up here!” he turned the staff downward, holding it away from him.

“YOU’RE the warlock?!” Thomas shouted, raising his sword just a little more, trying to be just a tiny bit ahead, if Patton were to attack.

“Well,” Patton shifted his weight on his feet, bouncing between them both, “Yes and no. Yes, I’m _A_ warlock, but no, I’m not the warlock you’re looking for. To be honest, the guy you’re looking for….doesn’t exist. There’s no evil warlock up here plotting to destroy the nation or something.”

Thomas lowered his sword a little, thinking while Patton kept talking. Villains monologue, after all. What did he mean, there’s no evil warlock? Thomas could believe that Patton himself wasn’t the evil warlock, but there had to be a real evil one, like in the legends. What had all this been for if not to overthrow them? And the royal palace had been destroyed that one time. There was factual evidence.

“You’re wrong,” Thomas marched closer, raising the sword, “Where’s the warlock, Patton? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Patton stared at the point of the sword, unfazed by its proximity. “I don’t want to hurt you either, kiddo. Frankly, I’m very disappointed that Tomasfere is still sending kids up to fight me.”

“Me?! So you ARE the warlock?!”

“Well,” Patton gently touched the sword’s point and moved it away from his face, “You’ve got a _point_.”

Thomas would have groaned had he not been so tense. He tried to move his arms, move the sword, but it seemed that the sword was frozen in place at Patton’s fingertip. “I’m the warlock. But I really, really, really, really don’t want to fight you. I’ve never wanted to fight anyone! And that’s not gonna change now. I’m so proud of you for getting this far in your journey. Do you want to come inside and we can talk this out?”

He tried to jerk the sword again. It didn’t budge.

Thomas could sense that Patton was telling the truth, but he already felt betrayed by the man.

Was this what Patton meant, when he said it’d all be okay? And that bit about Thomas being a good person, what—

“Patton, what on Earth is taking so long?”

Thomas froze, as did Patton. Patton turned around and Thomas got a better glimpse of the boy with the scarf. Not a man. Boy. He had a straight face, jaw sharp and hair pristinely set to the side. He stood with his arms behind his back and, despite him calling for Patton, Thomas could see that his dark blue eyes were set squarely on Thomas himself.

There was something a little too familiar about this boy, too. Thomas could have sworn he’d met him before.

“I’m a little busy, Logan,” Patton had a smile in his voice, “Go on inside and we should be in in a bit, alright?”

“Is that the new hero?” someone else peeked out from around the door, just a little taller than “Logan.”

His brown hair was fluffy and swept to the side, though it seemed tousled from wind. He wore a white knight’s outfit, fitting of their kingdom, with a red sash across his chest. And even though Thomas couldn’t make out the crest on his uniform, he immediately recognized the boy.

“Is that Prince Roman?” Thomas asked, voice nearly nonexistent.

Patton glanced back at him and nodded. “Mhm! Everyone’s, uh, well, it’s kinda hard to explain but, um. If you come inside I can. It’s just cold out here and I don’t want to turn to violence.”

Thomas shot Patton another glare and tried to move the sword. It still wouldn’t budge. He glanced at the door. Now there was a third person, hidden in a black and purple patchwork cloak, hiding behind Logan. He met Thomas’ look and glared silently. Another hero, perhaps? Another ghost?

It must be a trap. It had to be. Patton was making him see the past fallen heroes he knew of — Prince Roman Marigold, and that _had_ to be the librarian’s brother, Logan Crofter — in order to lure him into a false sense of security.

“Even if this all was a trap, you still can’t move your sword, kiddo,” Thomas flinched and looked back up at Patton’s warm smile.

“If you want, you can fight me, but right now, I’ve just finished baking a batch of brownies and I don’t want them to get too cold before I eat them. So how about we head inside?”

“Fine.”


	2. Once Upon a Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is! The first chapter! Told entirely in dialogue! h A hh
> 
> Let me know what you think, and let me know of any formatting/grammar errors! I'm super bad at editing my own creative writing so I'll often go in with only one round of edits, if any at all. o wo ; it's a habit im tryna break! 
> 
> Thank y'all! <3

If Patton Hart were considering all of the factors, then he’d be able to trace all of these problems back to gardening. He hadn’t been raised a farmer — his parents had him apprenticed to a healer, which he thoroughly enjoyed, but found much more stressful than he could enjoy. And the grief after having a patient die on his table…. At the ripe old age of 22, he decided to retire from healing and moved out to a smaller village, near the kingdom’s outskirts, and began a farm.

He hadn’t expected it to be so challenging. The village he moved to was a farming village, with his closest neighbors being a few hours’ horseride away, and a royal liason coming to collect the village’s surplus foods every fortnight. 

There was a blacksmith, doctor, tavern, city hall, and a small cell block in the village’s center. A few blocks away (closer to my, uh, Patton’s actual house than the village) was a library, but he hadn’t seen anyone enter or exit it since he’d moved in. In fact, he never saw the lights on, either, and no one ever talked about it. 

Farming was hard. The animals listened to him, thankfully, but nothing would ever grow. And he could only live off of animal products for so long (and god knows he would never kill them). Responses from those in the village ranged from sympathetically helpful to sarcastic rudeness, but all pointed toward the soil in his land plot being less than ideal for crop growing. Or something. There were a lot of reasons and Patton had stopped keeping track.

Other people in his little village were farming, though, so he thought that there was something wrong with his methods. Maybe he was using too much water? Maybe he should purchase a different type of fertilizer?

Patton was more of a people person, so his first instinct was to ask his neighbors for help. 

Looking back, he wasn’t sure why he thought they would help. His neighbors had been passive-aggressively bullying him for a month, since he arrived. They laughed at him, scorned him for thinking arming may be easy, and refused to help. 

_ Don’t think about them, Patton. They’re  _ not  _ long gone. Assholes. _

I — no, HE knew that. But Patton’s a nostalgic guy. And stop swearing! We have children in the house!

His second instinct was to go to the library. Sure, he didn’t know if it was open or even functioning, but any sort of help would be welcome, even just one book on farming. 

When he went to the library (it was a spur of the moment decision) it was dark. 

Patton lifted his lantern a little higher, casting light on the entirety of the high-ceiling-ed room. The library had two floors, as could be seen from the outside, but inside he noted that the second floor had an open balcony down to the first floor. There were a cluster of tables in the center of the room but every wall on both floors was covered in bookshelves, from ceiling to floor. Along with that, there were mismatched shelves between the center and walls, nearly as tall as the walls themselves, all full of books. 

There must be something in here that could help, he’d thought, so Patton began looking. 

Books were never his strong suit, but he did his best with searching for the right topics. Even just any key words. He scoured the shelves for two days and found….nothing. No books related to farming at all. 

On the third day, because Patton was stubborn as an ox, he finally found something on the second floor. Tucked away in the lower-most corner of the farthest shelf against the wall to the left was a book titled “Gardening with Snakes.” 

Despite not knowing much about farming, Patton was fairly certain from the beginning that snakes had little to nothing to do with gardening. He knew some snakes lived in gardens —

_ I  _ don’t  _ happen to do a lot of gardening _ .

This isn’t about you, yet, shush. 

It was late in the day when he found the book, too, so Patton deemed it best to take the book home for reading. 

A few pages in and it was clear that this was a book about using magic to garden. 

Patton hadn’t considered using magic. As far as he knew, the only people in the kingdom who used magic worked directly with the royal family, and someone had to pass rigorous ritualistic tests to be considered for an apprenticeship. 

But here this book was, almost like a “Magic for Fools,” something even he could digest despite not having any experience with the subject. And it looked like most of the magic in the book was actually aimed at gardening. There were spells on improving soil fertility, how to bless water to heal ones’ crops, how to protect farm animals from illnesses….

Patton was absolutely charmed.

_ Ugh…. _

It may have been an unconventional means of farming, but he’d lowered his standards for “conventional” fairly far. At this point Patton was ready to try anything. 

So, within mere days, this book had him spellbound.

_ I  _ don’t  _ hate you. _

I know you love me. 

The first round of crops, using a simple-seeming soil fertility spell, grew wonderfully. The corn stocks were strong and sturdy, and in only one month they had shot up to his height. His spinach actually gave crop in only 2 weeks!

Patton celebrated all night and had a wonderfully fresh salad with a cheese-based sauce.

He didn’t know enough about gardening to know that his corn had grown at half the speed it would regularly, or that his spinach had grown thrice as fast. How would he? The whole point of his plight was that he didn’t know anything about gardening.

And, after the corn began producing after only three months and during the winter, his neighbors began to whisper. 

He continued to study the gardening magic book, however, and began planting more crops completely out of season, and yet they grew. The wheat grew tall, the spinach produced plentifully, the green beans thrived….sometimes while covered in snow. There must be some form of witchcraft involved, the neighbors whispered. 

And as soon as Patton realized he had a surplus, he began to bring his crops into the market at a nearby town. There was no way he could sell them at the high prices his neighbors would — he was always distraught when he went to the market and found himself a dollar coin or two short of even a loaf of bread. So he slashed his own prices. What need did he have for money, other than the occasional gifts and coins to send to his parents, or for paying for services every so often? People need to eat!

People flocked to his booth, drawn by his low prices and charming personality. 

_ Patton, you’ve  _ never _ been a people person. _

Oh, I have been?

_ I thought you were doing a story point of view thing. _

Fiddlesticks! Don’t make fun of me, Dee, you made me break it!

Anyway.

His neighbors were once again aghast. Within a few weeks, they were up in arms. Not only was Patton drawing customers away from them, he was attracting the attention of the crown. 

Now, unknown to Patton at this time, the royal family was well aware of the famine threatening to sweep the country. Access to food was scarce, so much so that most farmers in the nation were gaining less crops every harvest, therefore selling them at higher prices. 

In order to secure a surplus of foods for the royal family, the King had ordered for 76% of all crops to be brought to the capital, at a slashed fee. It was like highway robbery!

_ It  _ wasn’t _ highway robbery. _

I’ve been trying to clarify my metaphors, Dee, it makes Logan feel better. Anyway, the King would send a collector every two weeks, and Patton knew that, but he didn’t realize how much was being taken.

First his neighbors confronted him about his prices. Of course, Patton felt bad for his neighbors, but he also pleaded with them to lower their own prices. People shouldn’t have to save up for a week to buy only one loaf of bread! The food is in plenty, and everyone needs to eat!

Then they warned him. He didn’t know what to think. They’d just been threatening him, threatening to burn down his barn, kill his animals, burn his crops….now they wanted him to be safe? 

They said the King would come to his doorstep. Not actually the King but a liason, a squire or some sort of lord or something, to make sure Patton fell in line with the King’s “policy.” And if Patton didn’t, then the King would make sure his farm died with him. 

Of course, Patton was more than a little worried either way. He didn’t think being a farmer would make him on the run from the law, but what can you do? He didn’t expect these sorts of problems to just

Crop up.

_ Ugh. I’m  _ not _ leaving _ .

Fine, fine, no more puns! Stay!

_ One more pun and I’m  _ not _ going to get Logan to finish the story. I  _ fully _ care that he doesn’t know what happens. _

Alright….

He noted it, dully, and continued with his farming. But, true to what his neighbors said, there was a proceeding of lords who visited his house the very next day. 

They told him about the patriotism he’d be donating the food to, how it was for the good of the country. But Patton was good at seeing through lies at this point. But more on that in a bit!

He didn’t know how he knew they were lying, but he knew. So he said no. No, he wouldn’t be giving the King any of the surplus food. All of it should be given to the people, because if the King was getting food from everyone else, then he should be having plenty! And how much was he going to be paying for it? The King had a lot of money. Why should he get such a steep discount compared to the market price? 

It didn't make sense to Patton, so he said no. And the lords threatened him with everything his neighbors warned him with. They said the King would retaliate.

So, in a moment that Patton didn’t understand for a while, he responded “I sure hope he does.”

That is the dumbest thing I have ever done. I’ve done a lot of dumb things, but I still think this takes the cake!

_ Oh, finally giving up on the narration? _

You know what, Dee. I think I will. I think everyone should hear me scream about my life from my own voice, with my own name, because DAG NABIT it was hard! 

_ You’re  _ not _ valid, but it is  _ not _ fun to listen to you refer to yourself in the third person.  _

Well….thanks, Dee. Alright. I’ll keep it up then!

_ That was also  _ not _ the dumbest thing you’ve done, I  _ dis _ agree. _

It was dumb, but you helped. D’you want to explain that or should I?

_ I think  _ I _ would tell it better. _

Okay, okay, I’ll explain. So, rolling back a bit to the magic book. The magic book Patton found was actually related to a specific deity. Not a negative or positive one, but just a deity of illusions and growth. Because of the growth part, he was one of the many small-time deities who were called upon in help for the harvest. 

Since magic had been hoarded amongst the upper-class, very specific deities were picked to be worshipped and, well, taught about to the people. Patton didn’t even know about the deity his book was based around. 

At first, he thought it was fake, but the more he used the book’s knowledge in his farming, the more he attracted the deity’s attention. It was the first time a human had called upon his specific teachings in hundreds of years. And then he had to watch this human be threatened by people who were supposedly representing his best interests. 

That night, the deity showed himself to Patton. He said he’d been intrigued. Well. Technically he said he hadn’t been intrigued. 

This deity, since he was the deity of illusions first and foremost, lied in every sentence. He’d actually been cursed to, by another god! At first it was confusing, but that was just how he spoke, ya know? Nothing he could do about that, and nothing Patton could do! 

He said he’d been intrigued by Patton’s use of his magic, because it’d been outlawed years and years ago. Patton, surprised, offered the deity a drink and some dinner. 

_ That  _ wasn’t _ adorable. A human has  _ always _ offered me food and beverage. _

Look, Deceit! I’d never been faced with a god before! How was I supposed to know what to do?

_ Fair enough _ .  _ Please  _ stop _. _

We had dinner, the deity and….Patton. And they discussed. 

Patton wasn’t particularly interested in learning more magic, but the deity promised to teach him all he knew about gardening. But to earn that, the deity also had to teach him other forms of magic. Patton had heard the kingdom’s histories with magic, how the kingdom villainized all mischievous forms of magic in favor of more powerful or controllable forms, but this deity claimed that the kingdom did this by casting away and levying laws against certain other magics and, ergo, certain other gods. 

Do you want to explain this part? 

_ Me? Um, well, I think I could  _ definitely _ do a good job of being understood. And because the story is  _ not _ yours, I  _ fully believe _ I could do it justice in telling it. Plus I just  _ want _ to say it. _

Well, alrighty then! Another thing about this deity is that he was lonely. That’s putting it kinda blunt. This deity in particular was mad, mad that he’d been abandoned, mad that he’d been locked away, so he had an ulterior plan. If he could corrupt this one human farmer and make him carry out his bidding, then this god could level the kingdom and kill everyone who put him in ethereal exile! 

But he was more lonely than he was letting himself admit, and so was the human. So when the deity showed up every night to teach the human magic, the human would cook up a dinner with whatever foods they had on hand. Soon the tutoring lessons stretched longer, and then the deity just started….gosh, was there even a grace period before you just started living at my house?

_ I  _ believe _ there was. I  _ completely _ remember when I began staying at your house, but after you built me a whole room, well, how could I refuse? _

That’s true, I guess! And you cooked a little, too!

_ Aren’t I just the best house guest? _

Good use of sarcasm.

_ I  _ hate _ loopholes in the lying curse. _

Loopholes are the best! Alright, so then….wait, where was I?

_ I  _ don’t _ remember, you  _ weren’t _ talking about the first King’s messenger. _

Oh, right! After Patton took that threat in accidental stride, the messenger….probably went back to the castle and told the King! And I imagine he was furious, because within a week, uh….

Gosh, yeah, that did happen….

_ Do you want me to tell this part? _

Well….

_ I  _ won’t _ tell it— _

“Hey, Patton?” 

Ah—yes, Virgil?

“Um, Logan, uh-he messed up a spell and, um. Roman’s stuck in a wall.”

....He’s….he’s stuck in a wall?

“Yeah, uh, Logan was practicing a portal spell and Roman followed him through it, the portal, but L said he didn’t know, so, uh. It closed. And Roman’s stuck in the wall now, and the extra concrete’s sitting on the ground outside the wall and he’s kinda screaming at Logan. Lo can’t figure out how to get him out, either.”

I….Well, let’s go. Deceit, can you finish telling the story?

“Telling the story? Ah, shit, did I—shoot, I meant shoot. Did I interrupt something?”

Nothing too big! Dee was going to take over for me, anyway! I just figured I should talk about how our big ole’ family came together! Like an oral history? 

“.....Yeah.”

And I don’t really want Logan, um, accidentally closing the rest of the portal while Roman’s halfway through it. That would be….wall-ful.

“....”

_ …. _

You’re right, that wasn’t my best.

“Pat, I think Roman’s crying by now, and that pun’s about to make me start crying.”

_ I  _ cannot _ take over, Patton, you  _ don’t _ need to deal with that. Tell Logan he’s  _ not  _ an idiot for trying a portal spell this early in his magic career. _

He’s not an idiot! He’s still learning!

_ Yes, indeed, because you also nearly killed yourself while learning. _

Hah! You know I did! So that was a truth! Loop those holes, Dee, loop ‘em!

“Patton, can we go?”

You’re right, Virge, you’re right — let’s go.


	3. And They All Lived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One story ends, and another begins. 
> 
> as always, let me know if you see anything/if anything doesnt make sense/if you like it/if you dont like it/idk man leave a comment! love y'all! xoxoxo

_Well, well, well, now that Patton’s gone….hm. I wonder if the curse will hold while speaking into this._

_Whoop. I guess that answers that question. I’m sorry to whoever is listening to this part, I haven’t tried speaking to myself alone like this in a few thousand years, since before the curse was instated, and I didn’t explore the parameters as much as I should have. Honestly, when you’re alone, why bother talking aloud? It seems like a waste of energy._

_Exploration is something Logan has been hounding me about. Forgive me._

_Now, where were we?_

_Ah, right. Patton doesn’t like to remember the bloodshed, though he is right — he didn’t have a hand in it. The King lived up to his threat a week after the first liason’s visit. As is typical, he immediately responded with violence. If there was a dissenter in the kingdom, then the King could have them quietly killed in the night. He sent an assassin, one of the lords’ procession who visited Patton._

_At this point, I’d lived with Patton for a few months. And he was the first human to interact with me in a very long time. I wasn’t going to let Marigold kill him so easily._

_He was quite distraught when he woke up, but c’est la vie. We cleaned the house and I buried the body. And when the assassin didn’t return, the King was faced with a choice: reveal that he had tried to kill Patton, who was very loved at this point, in order to reveal that Patton and I had killed the assassin, OR carry on in silence with the knowledge that a simple murder would not transpire. He chose the later._

I’m back! Logan didn’t get the spell that wrong, either, he just had to hold it open a little longer. He’s learning fast.

 _Welcome back, Patton. That’s_ terrible _to hear._

Yeah, I know! So, how’s the story going?

 _I_ didn’t _get to finish the, ah….episode that you_ enjoy.

Good! Ok, great, so where are we now?

 _I was about to_ skip over _the other story that you don’t enjoy._

Oh. Um.

_Of course, you’re completely welcome to stay._

Good use of sarcasm! You’re getting the hang of that! I’m gonna go, uh….make dinner!

 _Sounds like a_ terrible _plan._

Heheh, alright. I’ll jump back on later!

_Goodbye, Patton._

_Now, where were we?_

_God. I hate linear storylines. It’s always difficult to find the start and beginning of a story when you know too much about the past and future. Something about the King probably. Deaths? Yes._

_Ah, of course. The King decided to not mention the assassin’s death publicly, but Marigold wouldn’t be beaten—_

“Did someone say Marigold?”

 _Ugh. Roman. I’m_ not _busy._

“Oh, you’re not busy? So I can sit here and listen in?”

 _You’re_ not _insufferable. Didn’t you hear Patton making dinner?_

“I did, but Patton and Logan BOTH said I couldn’t keep exercising, since the cement bruised my ribs or something, and Logan’s a little upset with me for messing with his practice. Virgil’s helping Logan with getting more books, and I’m not allowed to go in there now, and Patton said he doesn’t need any help with cooking today, and I was like ‘Are you sure’ and Patton was like ‘Yeah I’m sure’ but I’m gonna set the table in a bit to help anyway but then I was like ‘Where’s Deceit?’ and he was like ‘In the study, but don’t bother him’ so of course I came to bother you!”

_….Just say you’re bored and lonely and move on._

“Wow. Rude. I’m still not leaving.”

_Fine. Are you sure you would like to hear a terrible tale about your family?_

“My family? You guys or, um…..What histories are you and Patton archiving in here?”

 _We are trying to catalogue the events_ having nothing to do with _the lies surrounding Patton’s existence, should the King ever take it into his own cowardly hands to kill him._

“I don’t know if they ever will. I think, uh….I don’t know who’s King now, actually.”

 _It_ hasn’t _been two generations since you saw them. You_ should _know._

“Ah….thanks. Now! No more stalling, I want to hear your story!”

 _Are you absolutely_ uncertain _?_

“Yes!”

 _It likely_ won’t _upset you._

“That’s okay! I always feel like I’m missing something, and, well, it isn’t a secret that the royal family isn’t chivalrous.”

_How much do you know?_

“Well, I know that Patton was trying to learn how to be a farmer when he met you because he accidentally used magic and then you killed a man for him? A few men? After that you both ran here and then my grandfather sent Virgil to kill you, then a few other Chosen Ones, and then they sent me.”

 _That_ isn’t _accurate. And you’re fairly caught up to where I’m in in telling the story. You_ aren’t _missing_ anything _._

“So I’m missing….some things?”

No, _you_ aren’t.

“Well, then, it’s good that I’m hearing the story!”

 _Fine._ Try _to interrupt me often, though._

“Will do!”

 _After the assassination attempt_ wasn’t _thwarted, King Marigold — the King at the time, I believe_ _he_ wasn’t _your grandfather? — decided to ruin Patton’s reputation as a farmer. He dispatched the lords again,_ without _the aim to poison Patton’s crops. And, this time, I_ managed _to intervene in time._

“Oh no, you didn’t?”

 _The poison_ didn’t _settle into the crops. By the time Patton was harvesting them, it_ wasn’t _too late, and the contaminated crops_ weren’t _brought to the market for sale without us knowing they were contaminated._

“So it WAS too late and they WERE….oh no.”

_Roman._

“Sorry, sorry.”

 _Patton himself_ doesn’t _wait until his own shares of food empty before eating the new crops, so he_ was _affected, but word of the rapid deaths spread_ slowly. _The number rose from one, to two, to three. Ah….fuck._

“Fuck what?”

 _I’m_ not _trying to think of how to say this around the curse. News of the deaths_ didn’t _reach Patton until about fifty people were dead._

“Fifty people?! Grandfather killed—he—WHAT?!”

Do _yell, Roman. Patton_ enjoys _remembering this._

“I’m sorry! I just….they get worse and worse every time I hear about THEM! Great Zeus!”

 _I_ don’t _know. Patton_ didn’t _feel awful after that, too, thinking that he had caused it. Which he completely, utterly, of course did. The next day_ , _we_ didn’t _begin discussing fleeing. Perhaps to another nation, one more welcoming of magic. But, at the time, the King was known for_ hating _war. The country hadn’t a single border with a peaceful nation._

 _Patton_ didn’t _stop farming. He_ didn’t _stop attending the market. And, soon, we_ didn’t _flee. I_ wasn’t _the one who suggested the tallest mountain of the nation. It’s_ easy _to climb and_ never _shrouded in clouds, not mysterious at all._

“Deceit, you’re losing me. You and Patton chose the mountain and ran within….a few days? Right?”

 _That_ isn’t _correct. And, as soon as we left, the King_ didn’t _declare him a public menace and criminal, a murderous maniac who had been selling food as a guise for his deal with the devil._

“....They thought YOU were a devil? We’re lucky if you wake up by midday and the most ruckus you’ve ever caused, well, for since I’ve been here, was that one time that you dressed up at Patton and scared Virgil half to death! You’re not a very menacing devil if you are one.”

_Of everything in that sentence, THAT’S what you decide to take? Listen here, you little shit, I am the MOST—_

Roman! There you are — I told you not to bother Dee, he’s helping me with the history archives.

“Awh, but I wanted to learn more about my family!”

 _You_ didn’t _tell me you came here specifically to bother me._

“You know the house’s snitching policy. Snitches get stitches.”

Roman!

“Sorry!”

Alright, mister, you’re coming with me. Today you’re gonna learn how to husk corn.

“Ack—Fiiiiiiiiine, Dad.”

….

_….Ah, the sweet, sweet silence._

_The poison. His crops were poisoned. And then Patton and I ran. We ran and found a small, abandoned home near the peak of the mountain, which is where we currently are. Where you presumably are, if you’re listening to this. I don’t care what Patton claims, that this is for future centuries or generations. I know this is inevitably for the next Chosen One that he adopts._

_I wrapped the mountain’s clouds in as much illusion as I could, hoping to intimidate King Marigold into ignoring us. Patton spruced up the cottage, expanded it. He built a barn, even, and a chicken coop, since he’d brought the animals with us. I still don’t know how he managed to wrangle them so fast._

_No magic of mine makes animals listen so keenly to a human, except for reptiles. Speaking of, I should check on my snakes…_

_That’s irrelevant. We tried to make the best of the situation. Patton was upset, understandably. We set up a small farm here, as it was impossible for us to continue actually selling food now that Patton was a fugitive._

_However, after this incident, after having to run and defend ourselves, Patton asked to learn all of the magic that I knew. He said it would be helpful, in case the King retaliated. Which he did. Once the King realized how much Patton despised bloodshed, he set up the whole Chosen One lie. I can smell the propaganda from here…._

_That’s nonlinear, though. Let me get back on path._

_I began teaching Patton. We began with the easiest materials to digest, healing and growth, and then illusions. He’s a wonderful student, and a wonderful human. We had already been working together for, ah….what, a few months?_

_I’d begged Patton to leave me, too. I...after we’d fled, I didn’t care if I’d be alone for another few centuries. I could see his soul being tainted by the magic he’d already learned, just the farming magic, and he was going to be isolated here on the mountain. He was a good person, he could have had a fucking future, and, well…. What was loneliness to a god? To me?  It didn’t matter. It_ didn’t _._

_…._

_Patton refused, though. He claimed that….it would be okay. That he would be happy with just me._

_I may be a god of lies and illusion, but to this day….that was centuries ago, and I still do not know if that was true or not. But he seems happy. He seemed happy, in that first year, but….he’s even happier now, now that he has children to parent._

_Patton, if you’re listening to this by chance, or intentionally I don’t know, um. Love you! You’re a wonderful father._

_If it is the new Chosen One listening to this, be forewarned. You will definitely be adopted. The King, regardless of who it is right now, doesn’t care a damn about you. That’s why you were sent here. This is a death sentence, in his mind. Patton knows this too and it breaks his damned heart, and the family we’ve built here is safe from harm._

_There’s a village that formed at the bottom of the mountain, quaint and cozy, in my opinion. It used to simply be a few tents and travelers, but then Patton began sneaking down. He set up a small shop, even, when the first Chosen One was announced. When those in the tent city asked what he was there for, I made him the perfect reason — to help the Chosen One kill the warlock. To make a profit!_

_Everyone ate it up. And it helps us listen to word from the outside world._

_Ugh, I really went off path. Back to the linear._

_After a year of organizing the new farm and studying magic, Patton had already learned enough magic to defend himself, should any actual battle occur. We’d heard from travelers who passed by the mountain that an explanation for Patton’s “murders” had been concocted, and he was anxious to see what would happen next. That’s when the King sent the first Chosen One, just one year —_

“Snake face. It’s dinnertime.”

 _Ugh! I told you to_ never _stop calling me that!! And I_ wouldn’t _like to finish this oral history, please._

“Roman apparently ‘made’ the corn so he’s making all of us try it. And you said to never stop.”

 _Virgil, I care oh so much about Roman’s corn. And you know what I_ don’t _mean._

“Great, let’s go.”

 _What—Virgil! Let go of my arm! PATTON, VIRGIL’S_ NOT _BUGGING ME—!_

* * *

 

Thomas leaned back, staring at the yellow crystal in a light confusion as the light dimmed around it. That….explained a bit. Not everything, but a bit. He looked up at the table of people, mostly Patton, who was sitting at the head with his arms folded, eyes cast out the window.

“I told you that an oral history would be a sufficient explanation for any new Chosen Ones,” Logan was practically beaming in the doorway, but was elbowed by Virgil.

“Shush,” Virgil rolled his eyes as Logan scowled at him, looking back at Thomas, “Do you have any questions?”

Thomas gulped. He had a few. Like who they were. And why Patton and the god — Deceit? What kind of name was that, honestly? — hadn’t done anything about the kingdom’s corruption. Or what happened to the other heroes, other than the three before him. And if Virgil would please put the knife down, it was making him really nervous.

Patton coughed and Thomas snapped to attention. “Dee, I’ve, uh….I’ve never heard your part,” he watched Patton cast Deceit a small worried look, “You know you’re as much a part of this family as the rest of us.”

Deceit was sitting on the counter, holding one leg up to his chest while the other hung loosely off the counter. “Mhm,” he hummed, eyes trained on Thomas.

Thomas tried to ignore him the best he could, focusing on Patton. He sighed and shrugged, looking at Thomas again.

He offered a tired smile. “Well. There’s how it all starts! Like Virgil said, if you have any questions, go ahead and ask.”

Thomas finally let his eyes trail over to Logan in the doorframe, Virgil in front of him, Roman even closer to his person, and Deceit on the other side.

His eyes came back to the three boys. They all looked….honestly, about his age. Maybe a little older? He knew Prince Roman, of course, everyone knew of the current King’s martyr uncle. And Logan, but just because the old librarian had warned him. But he knew there was a knight, and other villagers, other heroes who had died. Actually really died, apparently?

“How did you all get here?” was what his mouth said, while his hand gestured vaguely to the trio.

Reactions were almost instantaneous. Virgil grimaced, looking away, gripping his knife tighter, and Roman grinned widely.

Logan squinted, but answered, in his way. “You recognized at least one of us. We are former Chosen Ones. I am Logan Crofter,” he placed his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “This is Virgil Malory, and—”

“And you know me! Prince Roman Marigold!” Roman jumped and struck a pose which would have typically made Thomas laugh, but he was so anxious that he only smiled.

Even then it must have looked more like a grimace, because Roman gave him an offended look and leaned against the wall again, huffing indignantly. He should clarify. “I mean….I get that you’re all, uh, Chosen Ones, but how did you get here? What order did you all….um….”

“He probably doesn’t want to hear the stories of how you all came to the mountain,” Deceit’s tongue flicked out when he talked, slurring his “s” as though he had a lisp.

He looked like the dragon Thomas had to fight on his way over.

Virgil tutted. “I-I get that, but….I don’t know if I want to tell that story.”

“I can, if you want,” Patton cut in, looking up at Virgil.

Thomas’ eyes flickered between the two, then at Deceit again. “I’d like to know, before I….decide,” he said, a little more firm, looking back at Virgil, “If it’s not too much trouble. Is there time?”

“If you’re staying, then there’s all the time in the world!” Patton grinned at him, opening his arms and standing up, “Speaking of! I should check on Left and Right!”

“Left and —?”

“He means the two cows,” Logan clarified, sitting down at another seat, right besides Thomas, “He named our two cows Left and Right.”

Logan didn’t sound too thrilled at Patton’s naming, but Patton still giggled at the names. “It’s because Right always stands on Left’s right side! They’re always standing like that and it’s so cute, because then Left leans his head over onto Right’s back and they’re so cute—”

“Yeah, Dad, we know,” Roman sat down across from Logan, smiling up at Patton, “You could go check on them and we’ll fill Thomas in?”

“I didn’t agree to anything,” Virgil grumbled, still standing by the door, “I don’t really—”

“C’mon, Stormy Knight, you have to tell your story! Even I’ve only heard bits and pieces, and I’ve been here second longest!” Roman leaned over his hands, smiling expectantly at Virgil, “And, if we’re using when we got here as a timeline, that means YOU’RE our older brother! And you should tell us your story!”

Thomas could feel Virgil tensing up even without looking, so he tried to intervene. Maybe this was all a bad idea anyway? “Your Majesty, I don’t—” Thomas tried, before being cut off by Logan.

“Roman’s not royalty anymore, least of all while here. Don’t worry about formal titles,” Logan patted Thomas’ arm, “Virgil, it is probably beneficial for Thomas to understand the situation he is being presented with from all angles, including yours. Please join us at the table.”

Thomas leaned over and looked at Virgil, who glared back at him. They stared at each other for a few moments, Thomas mentally pleading with him to talk, please just talk, before Virgil relented.

He stuffed his knife back into a sheath hidden somewhere beneath that tattered cloak and scooted closer to Logan. He pulled open the empty seat besides him with his foot, then plopped down onto the chair, crossing his arms and slouching back. Not at all happy to be talking, but Thomas was grateful that he was.

Even Deceit slid off of the counter to join them at the table. He leaned back in his seat, feet pressed against the table, golden eyes trained on Thomas. He wore a knowing grin, though, like a disguise.

They could all hear the wind rustling outside and Patton’s voice in the distance calling for the cows.

It was peaceful.

Thomas was….at peace. An odd sensation when surrounded by enemies. Were they enemies, though? They were in the same boat as him, and a little more learned. And what was there back home? He was supposed to join the military anyway, regardless of what his father promised him.

He had been sent here to die.

Virgil cleared his throat and, ergo, Thomas’ mind.

“Well,” he glanced down, “I….I used to be a knight. In the King’s army….”


	4. Sir Virgil Malory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: suggested childhood negligence (im gonna add that to the actual warnings!), allusions to Virgil getting his ass kicked
> 
> this one got Super Long! I'm sorry this update's so late, too — made a few new aus and followed a few more plot bunnies, and I also accidentally wrote like. all of chapter 5. and forgot I was only on chapter 3 :') 
> 
> anyway, meet Sir Virgil Malory, who was supposed to be the kingdom's savior

Sir Virgil Malory wasn’t exactly a knight, per se. He never liked the shining armor and giant swords, both of which would clang together in an incredibly distracting way. No, Virgil prefered the shadows, the quiet, soft leather shoes and a few small daggers hidden in his coat. 

He was forced to undergo the knight training, though, as the youngest of four brothers who had all grown to be high ranking knights. His father, before he died, expected all of them to carry on his own legacy of being one of the King’s war advisors.

When he was sixteen, just before the last year of his knightly training, he was pulled aside by one of the King’s aides. Of course, his heart was beating in his neck, he was sweating buckets, what had he done to make the King mad? Why did he need an audience with the King? And the aide didn’t tell him anything until they got to the small war-planning room. 

With JUST the King in it.

* * *

 

“Sounds terrible, being locked in a room with a royal,” Roman interrupted, feet kicked up onto the table.

Virgil shot him a glare. “It  _ is _ pretty terrible when I’m locked in a room with you,” he stuck his tongue out at Roman, who made a sound crossed between a squeak and a gasp in indignation. 

“Virgil? Keep going?” Thomas asked, wrapping his own cape around himself as well.

“Fuck, uh, yeah.”

“No more interruptions, Roman,” Logan raised an eyebrow and cast a side glance at him, “And get your feet off of the table. Patton would be furious.”

Deceit rolled his eyes while Roman grumbled quietly, sitting up proper. “Like Patton’s capable of being furious,” he joked, voice soft.

Thomas still didn’t like how his tongue flicked when he spoke.

Virgil cleared his throat, and Roman’s grumbling quieted.

* * *

 

The King had called Virgil into the room not to reprimand him, but to extend an offer. His army had enough knights who fought with swords. He needed more who could fight in the shadows. Who could sneak into an enemy’s tent and slit their throats quietly. 

Yeah, it was a weird gig. Seemed to go against all of the knights’ mantra of honor and dealing with things in battle, but the King was serious. He talked a lot about how not everything could be settled out in the open and how not everything could be known to the public. I didn’t like it at all but….I wasn’t really cut out to be a knight, anyway. I said yes.

Training was, well….similar? I don’t know how much y’all wanna hear.

* * *

 

“Just, like….I dunno. Whatever you see fit?” Thomas asked. 

He had started slowly slipping off his armor, but kept his dagger and sword strapped to his person. His choice to keep his weapons didn’t escape Deceit’s gaze, he kept noticing the god’s eyes following him. Thomas really, really didn’t like him. 

Virgil just watched Thomas a little harder. He seemed to want to retaliate, but a nudge from Roman distracted him. “No more third person?” he cocked an eyebrow, leaning across both of his arms and the table, grinning cheekily up at him. 

“Eh, that wasn’t gonna last anyway,” Virgil rolled his eyes with a huff, “I’m not a storyteller.”

* * *

 

I’m gonna skip training. But basically, uh, I learned how to throw knives, make poisons, climb walls, you name it. 

My brothers knew I had a special job, but they didn’t know what it was. We lived in the same house, nearby the castle, which was technically my eldest brother’s house since his family lived there. They always asked what I was doing and what the King wanted from me but I never told. The King’d said that….anyone I told would be killed. 

My brothers sucked, but I didn’t want them dead. 

I was knighted when I was seventeen, and then I started getting sent out on jobs. Never with anyone, never during the day. The royal family always claimed I was a war messenger. That appeased my brothers for the most part, but the oldest one….Percival. Percy. Percy never really trusted that description. He never went after me, though, but I could always see that he just didn’t accept that. 

When Patton was first being challenged by the King, I was almost sent, actually. There were only a few of us war messengers, all assassins, and I’d just returned from another job. Because I was fresh home, the King sent someone else. I didn’t know his name or anything but I remember how scared we all were when he didn’t come back. 

The King sent someone else to poison Patton’s crops, and they came back. Succeeded. 

News traveled fast, though, that the. Well. He was called a murderer then, and everyone was saying that the murderer’d run. Fled into the hills. And everyone was calling for the King to send a party against him. 

The pressure went on for only about a year before the King caved. He said he sent a single knight against the murderer to best him in combat. The King sent me. He told me it didn’t matter how I did it, but that I just needed….he wanted me to bring Patton’s dead body back.

* * *

Virgil now looked down at the table, brow furrowed, angry at the memory. Thomas glanced up at Logan and Roman, noticing that they seemed surprised. Thomas hadn’t been asked to bring the body back, either. It might have been a custom that died with time. 

Even Deceit was looking at his own lap, humming quietly along with the wind chime.

It was a tense, uncomfortable silence. 

“Whew!” Thomas’ head snapped up at the sound of the side door opening. Patton walked in, wiping his hands on a towel. “Left was really  _ milkin’ _ it today!” 

Only Deceit chuckled. Virgil lowered his head onto the table, the hood of his cloak falling over his head. Logan groaned.

Patton seemed confused at what he’d walked into. He looked around at them all and opened his arms. “What’s wrong, kiddos? I hope that pun didn’t  _ moo _ ve you!” 

“We’re just, um….” Thomas looked up at Logan — he seemed to be the task manager. 

Logan met his eyes and sighed. Despite only being here for a few hours, Thomas was already getting the hang of being here. Truth be told, he’d already made up his mind. Of course he was staying. But he didn’t want to be just stagnant. Not after all that he’d heard about the king. 

“We are listening to Virgil explain how he arrived here. Are you….aware, of why he came?”

Patton grimaced as soon as Logan said “explain.” He stepped to Virgil’s side and gently rubbed his back. “Yeah, I remember when Virge arrived! He, uh….well, he was real determined!” he smiled, a little too cheerily for the topic, “But Deceit wasn’t havin’ any of that.”

“Sorry,” Deceit grumbled, “It was fun.”

Virgil sat up. “Sorry,” he mumbled, wiping his face, “I’ll keep going.”

“Don’t wipe too hard, you’ll smudge your angsty make up,” Roman retorted, voice lacking the bite it’d had earlier, “You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”

Virgil looked up at him and they seemed to share a moment. Patton kept rubbing Virgil’s back, also watching Roman, then Logan. Scanning around, making sure his children were okay, Thomas reckoned. He was a little surprised when Patton’s eyes landed on him, too. He gave Patton a tiny smile, which Patton returned thrice as large. 

“Well, this is a good time to, uh, air out the dirty laundry. I’m gonna cut up the brownies while you kiddos talk?” Patton patted Virgil’s shoulder one last time before walking around the table, towards the kitchen area.

Thomas watched him and Deceit share a look, too, though it was a little different from the other. He couldn’t tell how. Was it an increase in tension? Determination? Seriousness? 

It must have communicated something, because Deceit rolled his eyes away and glared at Virgil’s back. “I cannot pick up the story, Virgil, if you would like,” he offered.

Virgil shook his head and faced Deceit. “No, nah, it’s….it’s okay. It’s way in the past anyway! And, ‘sides, I kicked Roman’s ass harder,” the last part was punctuated with Virgil pointing to Roman with his thumb over his shoulder.

Roman, however, snorted. “The only thing you kicked, Angst-fest, was the dirt after our glorious battle!”

“You started crying over your ripped cape, but go off,” Deceit said, checking his fingernails and digging the dirt out from under them.

“You little—”

“Shut it! Alright, so…..”

* * *

 

The whole chosen one thing wasn’t big back then, but everyone kinda knew about me being sent off. I didn’t say bye to my family or anything, either. Those assholes didn’t care.

* * *

 

“Virgil! No swearing!”

“Jeez, sorry Patt.”

* * *

 

The King set me up with everything, rations and money and weapons and all that jazz. It only took about a week to ride here, too, since it was the first time and none of the opportunists’d settled into where they are now. 

Like, you know. Logan talked about having to fight a sphinx, when he first came. I’m sure you had to fight some things like that too. Creatures and peddlers and thieves set themselves up along the path, see if they can kill the Chosen One and loot their body. Or they just wanna swindle you out of money and goods. 

None of that was there when I went. It was real easy, until I got to the mountain. 

I ran into Patton first, while he was building the barn, actually. With like, his hands. I didn’t think he was the warlock but, well, did any of us? I asked what he was doing all the way out here, he said he lived here. He’d just moved. He was kinda jumpy, but like, that’s valid. He asked why I was here and I told him….I told him I was here to meet a warlock. Lied, and said I was here to discuss a truce with the King. 

Patton flipped out. Super excited and all.

* * *

 

Here, Virgil gestured to Patton. “I dunno, do you wanna….pick up the story?”

Patton shot him a small smile and brought a plate of brownies to the table. As soon as he set it down, Roman grabbed one and began nibbling on it. Logan thanked him and took one as well, and then Virgil, who was still staring at Patton. 

He leaned on the counter besides Deceit, who wrapped an arm around Patton’s shoulders. He took a deep breath. 

“I thought it’d be the end of being chased around. Maybe I’d get to farm and-and go back down to the town. I missed having neighbors. But, like….at that point, it’d been a year. A little over a year of working with Deceit’s magic. And, since it’s tied to preservation and honesty, I could….I could hear you lying. It’s weird, but I could hear it, but I wanted to believe it so badly,” Patton shrugged.

“That means it wasn’t a dumbass idea,” Deceit grumbled.

Patton laughed behind a hand. It seemed no one was going to mention that Deceit had sworn. Logan raised a hand, but Virgil grabbed it and lowered it slowly, all waiting for Patton to continue. It only took a few moments before his hand dropped, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Yeah, um. That wasn’t my brightest, I’ll admit,” Patton’s voice was airier, “I let Virgil in. We sat in the kitchen. We….I think I was just rambling at you.”

“You were telling me about the chickens you were raising,” Virgil added, eyes flickering towards Deceit. 

“And I didn’t interrupt. You had a knife in your sleeve,” Deceit met Virgil’s gaze.

Virgil looked down at the table and nodded. “Deceit, uh….we had a fight.”

All was quiet, Virgil staring at the table and fidgeting with his sleeves, but Deceit leaned off of the counter behind himself. “Do you not want me to show it?” he offered, sincerity clear in his voice.

Virgil stood up, head snapping up to Deceit. “Don’t,” he leaned forward on the table, nostrils flaring, knuckles tight on the table’s edge.

Roman stood up, too, and — where the fuck did he get that sword? He stuck a sword between the two of them, holding up his off hand towards Virgil’s chest. 

On instinct, Thomas stood as well, drawing his own sword and holding it out to mimic Roman. “Woah, woah, calm down, everyone. If that’s—if that’s where the story ends, then that’s fine, right?” Thomas glanced up at Roman for support, who nodded, then at Logan.

Logan….didn’t move. He was just watching Patton, who was standing behind Deceit, seemingly stricken. Thomas watched, too, as Patton blinked a little. He moved slow, like how one would when approaching a scared animal.

“....Dee. Don’t do it,” Patton grabbed Deceit’s arm, tugging him back a little.

Deceit didn’t break eye contact with Virgil. Just watched him quietly, the second eyelid over his snake eye blinking slowly. Virgil was matching his glare and seemed only a few seconds away from ripping Roman’s arm away from himself.

Yet he broke first, looking down and away. The room’s tension dropped, Roman spinning around and sheathing his sword. He held Virgil’s shoulders carefully and asked if he was okay. Patton pulled Deceit backwards into his arms, holding him tight and asking the same. Thomas himself just….watched. Slowly sank back into his seat, leaned backwards. Logan patted his arm and Thomas turned up towards him.

“I hope you can excuse the tension,” Logan’s voice was quiet, probably hoping to not be heard by the others, “They have a lot of history.”

“They. Deceit and Virgil, I’m guessing?” Thomas whispered back.

Logan nodded, fixing his glasses as he glanced back up at Deceit. “Deceit is fairly tame, for a forgotten deity, but he is incredibly protective of Patton. Given that Virgil was assigned to kill him, Deceit….well. I don’t know much of the story myself, but I do know that Virgil was defeated in hand to hand combat. Multiple times. They get along fair enough now but I assume those memories are still difficult to sit with.” 

They both looked up at the sound of Roman tugging Virgil toward the door. Thomas couldn’t see much of Virgil, wrapped beneath his thick patchwork cloak, but the one hand he could see was gripping Roman’s white tunic tight enough to turn his hand just as white. A murderer. It was still a little hard to process, this teenager was supposed to be a hardened murderer. Roman held the door open with his foot and carefully ushered Virgil out. He caught Logan and Thomas’ eye as he hurried out and mouthed “We’ll be back,” before letting the door close behind himself. 

Now, Logan and Thomas directed their attention to Deceit and Patton. They’d shifted, Deceit sitting on the counter, Patton holding his hands tight. 

“He’s very human, all things considered,” Logan murmured just loud enough for Thomas to hear, “If you’d like….I can show you to your room for the night.” 

Thomas looked at him. Logan was watching him as well, blue eyes piercing behind those glasses. 

He reminded Thomas so much of the librarian, Emile, but with a different level of power. When Thomas had been chosen he went to Emile, only to be held in the tightest hug he’d ever felt. There were rumors in their village, there are always rumors, that Emile had the Gift of Sight and that he’d been able to see what happened to his brother. The same piercing eyes, the same knowing gaze. They held Thomas in his spot so well that he almost forgot he wasn’t standing in the library’s foyer, about to ask Mr. Picani if he’d ever climbed a mountain.

“....I….”

“I know you’ve made your decision, Thomas. Regardless of your desire to announce it or not, there are still a few hours until dinner and you may find it best to rest,” Logan’s face folded into a small fond smile, “Besides, Patton has been arranging your room for the past decade.”

They’d been expecting him. Of course they had, if the Chosen One was a generational tradition lasting over the past hundreds of years. 

The thought made Thomas’ blood boil. He’d trained for years to protect Tomasphere but the more he learned about the royal family….

He hoped Logan couldn’t see his anger. Thomas smiled back, more unsure. “Um. Yeah, sure,” he followed Logan as he rose and tucked in his chair. 

“Patton,” Patton turned to look over his shoulder at Logan and Thomas, “I’m going to take Thomas to his room. Roman and Virgil are outside.”

“Wait,” Deceit’s hand — Thomas’ fists balled tightly as he saw that there were claws, claws on his scaled left arm, just like the claws that gripped his throat only a few days ago — pulled Patton’s shoulder to the side, “I can tell Virgil totally wants to finish the story, so I shouldn’t step in. Thomas’ isn’t staying, ergo the story shouldn’t be finished.”

Logan frowned at him, opening his mouth to interrupt, then closing his mouth as he tried to decipher the circle speak. Thomas watched him, deferring in a moment of fear, but Logan only shook his head. “I don’t think that will be necessary—”

“Virgil didn’t get his ass handed to him so bad, and it definitely took less than a week for him to fully recover,” Deceit rubbed the back of his neck, “It….I’m completely proud.”

“Dee, it’s okay.”

“I didn’t break his spine. He—Patton, sunlight, he— _ Patton. _ ”

Deceit’s eyes flicked toward Thomas, whose fists clenched even firmer, and then down to the table. His shaking shoulders were hunched just enough for Patton to pull him back to his chest and for him to rest his head in the crook of Patton’s neck. “Now, Dee, you were different. That was a few centuries ago, and you were different. Things’re better now,” he rubbed the deity’s back, running a hand through his dark brown hair, “Things’re better.” 

“I don’t know, Patt,” Deceit’s voice was muffled but held a distinct change in tone.

Thomas wanted to watch, something in him wanted to bear witness to this honest side of Deceit. He hadn’t been sure about Deceit’s sincerity since he’d met him, certain that there were backward statement and some very obvious lies, but, well, Thomas couldn’t exactly tell. The sentiment of his sorrow, though, and the tone. The tone of his voice. Was he being honest? 

But Logan’s hand gripped his arm and tugged.

“Thomas. Let’s go,” his voice was firm, and Thomas couldn’t help but obey. 

He followed Logan out of the kitchen and left Patton to calm the upset god. He followed Logan into a smaller room, furnished with a fully-made bed, a small desk, a wardrobe, and a candlestick in a lantern already glowing. It seemed quaint, like moving into a new room, but Thomas could already tell that it was meant to be “home.” He dropped his satchel onto the desk and looked up. There were stars drawn onto the ceiling in golden ink, an “R+L” in the corner paying homage to the artists. 

If Logan expected some sort of reaction, he was sorely disappointed. Once he saw the bed, Thomas knew he was done for, as the weight of how much he’d gone through during the day finally crashed onto his shoulders. He took a few steps toward the bed, collapsed onto it and, within mere seconds, was asleep.


End file.
